


Night

by xRabbitx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Pharmercy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 18:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14959997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: Sometimes a lesbian just gotta take action.





	Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first Pharmercy fic!

*

 

            “Fareeh? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

            “It’s late.”

            “Are you alright? You seem different.”

            “I am different, I—I _feel_ different.”

            Angela rubs her eyes and squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The neon green digits show 3:24 AM. She looks back at Fareeha, who’s standing there by the bed in sweats and a too-big tee shirt with the Overwatch logo printed in black on the front. Fareeha looks back; there are dark shadows under Angela’s eyes, and if you didn’t know her, you’d probably worry about her. But Fareeha has known Angela almost all her life, and the shadows under Angela’s eyes have always been there, and Fareeha would honestly be more worried if she found that one day they were gone. No, the Angela who sits in front her, groggy and bleary-eyed, is the Angela Fareeha has always known.

            “Is it medical? What do you need? What are your symptoms?”

            Angela is already on her way out the bed, ready to do her duty as the head of Overwatch’s Medical Research Unit, but Fareeha halts her with a firm hand on her shoulder. Angela is wearing nothing but cotton panties and a white and threadbare tee shirt. The fabric is so worn that’s almost see-through, and Fareeha catches the outline of Angela’s breasts through it. The round curve of them hits Fareeha like a bolt right in the diaphragm, making her feel warm all over.

            “I’m not sick,” Fareeha clarifies. She can do this. She’s not the gangly, awkward teenager she was when she left for military academy. She’s a grown woman of action, and although it’s only been two days since she came back for the summer, she’s taking action right now. This can’t wait.

            “Then why are you in my room in the middle of the night?” Angela asks in that dry tone that means she’s a bit annoyed. It’s just one of the many things that made Fareeha fall in love with her.

            “I, uh…” Fareeha’s voice falters a bit under Angela’s blue, suspicious gaze. Come on, you idiot, don’t give up now! Even though there are only five years between them, and even though Fareeha is a lot taller and broader than Angela, Fareeha suddenly feels very small, and Angela suddenly looks very old. There are hints of lines around her blue eyes, and even in the semi-darkness of the room, Fareeha can see the streaks of grey in Angela’s golden hair. The last three years have changed them both a lot, but it doesn’t turn Fareeha off her mission. If anything, it turns her on more. They’re equals now, aren’t they? Angela is the head of Overwatch’s Medical Research Unit, and Fareeha is a trained soldier who just graduated with honors from one of the world’s most prestigious military academies. The thought gives Fareeha courage.

            “Well?” An eyebrow quirks on Angela’s face, like she’s seconds away from asking to talk to a manager.

            “I’m here for you,” says Fareeha evenly.

            “For me? I’m not sure I underst—!”

            Angela doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Fareeha has gathered every last shred of courage and leaned down to cover Angela’s lips with her own. Even though the thumping of her own heartbeat, Fareeha can hear Angela’s breath catch in her throat, and she can feel Angela’s muscles tensing under her fingers. Just as Fareeha is convinced that Angela is going to shove her away, Angela melts under her. It’s incredible to witness; her body seems to let go of a massive amount of energy, and she leans into the kiss with a soft, breathy moan. Fareeha responds in kind and lifts both hands to thread her fingers into Angela’s hair, pulling it out of the messy ponytail it had been tied back in. It’s still damp from the shower Angela must have taken before she went to bed, and images of Angela’s long, pale body, glistening with soap in the shower, instantly flashes before Fareeha’s mind’s eye. She almost can’t make herself break the kiss, worried that the spell might lift is she does, but eventually, she has to. Lightheaded, she tries to catch her breath as she kisses along Angela’s jawline and down the side of her neck.

            “Is this really what you want?” Angela asks breathlessly against Fareeha’s ear, and if Fareeha had been doubting, that would have settled it for her. She has wanted Angela ever since she had first met her. Childish admiration had turned into an awkward pre-teen crush which in turn had turned into an adult and deep sensation of love and lust. No amount of jacking off or sleeping with other women had slacked Fareeha’s want for Angela, the whole of her, including beginning wrinkles, gray hairs, and dark shadows under the eyes.

            “Yes,” Fareeha replies against the smooth stretch of skin between Angela’s neck and shoulder. “Yes. I want you, Angela.”

            “Yes,” Angela echoes softly. “I’ve wanted you to want me.”

            It only takes about a second before Fareeha has gotten Angela down on the bed, pushing her down onto her back and kissing her lips again while positioning herself to kneel between Angela’s spread legs. Finally. Finally, Fareeha gets to do the things she’s been fantasizing about doing for years; she gets to have Angela’s leg on her hips, she gets to lean over her and push her shirt up, and she gets to see the breasts that have haunted her dreams for so long. Angela’s breasts are full and beautiful. The skin here is even paler than on the rest of her body, and Fareeha can vaguely make out the dark patterns of the veins under that pale skin, like guiding lines for her tongue to follow. Fareeha follows them across Angela’s chest, down between her breasts and over the soft mounds and around the nipples that flushed pink and swell when Fareeha’s tongue glides over them. Somewhere above her, Angela is breathing heavily, and her long fingers thread deftly into Fareeha’s thick, black hair.

            Angela lets out a small whimper when Fareeha lets her teeth graze one of the swollen nipples, so Fareeha does it again, and then again, and then again until Angela is squirming under her. It’s probably the most arousing sight Fareeha has ever seen, and it actually takes a lot of self-restraint to not just fuck Angela right then and there. She doesn’t want to rush this, she wants to enjoy it, draw it out as long as possible, just in case Angela changes her mind in the morning. If this is the only time Fareeha gets to do this, she’ll make the most of it. And make the most of it, Fareeha does. It takes her almost a full 10 minutes before she reaches Angela’s navel, and by then, her lips are swollen and her jaw a bit sore. But she’s far from done. Underneath her, Angela is trembling and breathing in small, short gasps.

            “This isn’t your first time,” Angela whispers through a breathy laugh.

            “Far from it,” Fareeha says, full of confidence. Confidence in her skills is another thing that’s changed from last time she saw Angela three years ago. And she’s unapologetic in her confidence. She has had enough proof from other women that she knows what she’s doing. Still, it doesn’t stop her from being a little intimidated when her chin rubs over the waistband of Angela’s panties. But god, it’s electrifying to be this close. Fareeha can feel the heat come out between Angela’s thighs, and she can even _smell_ Angela’s arousal. She feels drunk with it. When she slides her nose and lips over the damp fabric, she can feel Angela’s soft pubes through it. They feel soft, and Fareeha has to pull the crotch of the panties to the side, so she can feel them properly, feel Angela properly.

            “You have no idea,” she whispers to Angela as she presses her lips to the inside of Angela’s thigh, just a few inches from her sex, “how much I’ve thought about this.”

            “You thought about staring at my vagina?”

            “So what if I have?”

            “Honestly, Fareeha, that’s— _ah!_ ”

            Fareeha lips cup around Angela’s clitoris, sucking lightly while the flat tip of her tongue slides in between the soft folds to rub over the sensitive spot in steady, rhythmic motions. It’s hard to even fathom that it’s actually happening. Here she is, Fareeha Amari, daughter of a high-ranking officer in Overwatch, eating out the head of Overwatch’s Medical Research Unit, and judging from the noises said head of Overwatch’s Medical Research Unit is making, Fareeha is doing a good job of it. The muscles in Angela’s thighs are tensing and twitching. She wants to clamp her legs together around Fareeha’s head, but Fareeha doesn’t let her. She has a hand on both Angela’s knees, forcing them into the mattress to keep her legs wide open. Angela’s hands are grabbing at the sheets, tugging and pulling at them, but Fareeha isn’t letting up. She keeps Angela in place, mercilessly rubbing against her clitoris in the same steady rhythm until her tongue is aching and she feels lightheaded, inebriated on the noises Angela makes and the way she smells. If she hadn’t had other plans, Fareeha would probably have kept going until Angela comes, but she does have other plans.

            “Don’t stop—Mm, Fareeha, don’t—!”

            But Fareeha does stop and lifts her head, licking her wet and swollen lips with a smirk as she looks at the aching Angela under her.

            “I thought I said, don’t stop,” Angela breathes, lifting her head to send Fareeha one of her signature annoyed glares. It’s the glare of a woman in charge, a woman who’s used to getting things her way, a woman who’s used to picking people apart, quite literally, and putting them back together again in better, more efficient ways. But Angela isn’t the one in charge here.

            “You don’t get to call the shots here, Angela,” Fareeha informs her with the kind of arrogance she can only allow herself because she’s younger than Angela. “You’re not my senior officer in bed.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Fareeha doesn’t answer in words right away. She sits up and gathers Angela’s legs by her ankles before lifting them up and pulling Angela’s panties up along her legs. Angela probably thinks Fareeha is going to take them off entirely, but that’s not what she’s doing. Fareeha pushes the panties up to Angela’s ankles, then wraps them around Angela’s feet, binding them together. Before Angela can say anything, Fareeha pushes her knees down towards her chest, all but bending her in half, so she’s completely exposed to Fareeha. Angela squirms a bit, but she doesn’t complain, and her increasingly heavy breathing tells Fareeha that she’s into it, just like Fareeha suspected. Keeping one hand on Angela’s bound ankles, Fareeha leans down to press soft kisses against her exposed labia, letting her tongue push between them and tease around the entrance to Angela’s vagina.

            “You have such a beautiful pussy,” Fareeha whispers against it, the soft pubic hairs tickling her lips and nose. “Just like I knew you would.”

            “Actually, beauty is entirely objecti—”

            “Shut up, Angela, let me enjoy your pussy, please.”

            “Okay.”

            With her free hand, Fareeha pushes her sweats and boxer briefs down to mid-thigh before leaning closer and rubbing herself against Angela. It’s not really doing much for her physically, but knowing that they’re touching like this, that Angela is letting her rut up against her like this, is all the stimulation Fareeha needs. She looks down at how stark the contrast is between her own thick, semi-frizzy, black pubes and Angela’s soft, blonde, and delicate-looking hairs, and it honestly turns her on even more to see it. Angela looks almost tiny compared to her, and Fareeha is a little ashamed to admit that that also turns her on. But it does. A lot. In fact, Fareeha may or may not have been working out for the last three years with the specific goal in mind that she’d be able to lift Angela completely effortlessly.

            Fareeha’s breathing becomes a bit labored as she continues to rut up against Angela, rolling her hips and rubbing herself on the back of Angela’s thigh. Heat is pooling somewhere behind her navel, and her leg muscles are getting tense. She has to seriously restrain herself to stop and focus on Angela again. She doesn’t want to come yet; she wants to come with her lips to Angela’s. She wants their first orgasms together to be _together_ , with each other, not in the vicinity of each other. They have the rest of the night to have all the greedy, selfish orgasms they want, but the first one is special. And it’s special enough that there shouldn’t be clothes involved at all, Fareeha decides. She pulls back a bit to tug her t-shirt over her head and toss it on the floor with her sweats. Then she shifts closer again, letting her slightly calloused hands glide up Angela’s milky white thighs, squeezing them and leaving red marks on the pale skin. Fareeha doesn’t know what it is about Angela, but seeing that perfect white skin… It’s like freshly fallen snow; it’s so smooth, so unflawed, and all Fareeha wants to do is to stomp through it with her giant snow boots on. She wants to stomp through Angela, too. She wants to leave marks all over her, she wants to break her a little, but then put get gently and lovingly back together again. And she wants to feel Angela letting her. There’s something about a woman, who holds people’s fate in her hands on a daily basis, giving you her permission to pick her apart.

            “Angela,” Fareeha whispers, and suddenly she can’t bear not to feel Angela’s mouth against hers. She quickly releases Angela’s feet so she can lay down between her thighs and cradle her head in her hands. Angela is soft and pliant and smiling slightly into the kiss. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

            Angela doesn’t reply. She instead lifts both hands to let her fingers slide over Fareeha’s naked back, tracing the outlines of the muscles that have appeared there since they last saw each other. The fingers are deft, methodical, almost as if Angela is drawing an anatomical diagram of Fareeha in her mind, which, honestly, wouldn’t be too surprising. This is Angela, after all; the smartest woman, the most passionate medical worker and researcher Fareeha knows. It’s hard to imagine that that brain of hers ever stands still for more than a few seconds at a time.

            “Do you want me?” Fareeha whispers into Angela’s mouth, and when Angela doesn’t immediately respond, she repeats, “Do you want me, Angela?”

            “Yes,” Angela finally breathes, pale lashes fluttering over her flushed cheeks. This is a different Angela, one Fareeha hasn’t met before. The regular Angela is trying to hide her grumpiness on a daily basis, she’s surviving on coffee and whatever food Jack and Ana remember to bring her, she never sleeps more than a couple of hours each night, smokes in secret but doesn’t let that stop her from lecturing others (Jesse) about the dangers of smoking, and she doesn’t have time for your bullshit unless it’s a matter of life and death. This Angela, the Angela under Fareeha right now looks… _innocent?_ No, that’s not entirely the right word because it’s impossible to call her that when she’s naked and bucking her hips and humping up against Fareeha like a bitch in heat. But she is softer, less edgy, less exhausted. Her cheeks are pink, and her mouth that’s usually sipping cold, black coffee or chewing on the end of a pen, is currently emitting the breathiest, most delicate moans.

            “For how long have you wanted me?”

            “Too long, Fareeha.”

            “Would you like me to make you come?” The question is stressed by a roll of Fareeha’s hips to rub hard against Angela’s sex, just once.

            “Yes.”

            “Yes, what?”

            “Yes, please.”

            Fareeha is behind Angela now. They’re both on their sides. Angela’s legs are spread open, Fareeha’s hand between them, jacking her off with an increasingly intense rhythm. Her free hand is taking care of Angela’s breasts, making sure that each nipple is swollen and sore by tomorrow. Fareeha’s mouth is taking care of Angela’s neck and shoulder, dotting them both with small bite marks and hickeys. If this is going to be their first and only night together, Fareeha wants to make damn sure that Angela won’t forget about it for a while because there’s no way Fareeha is ever going to forget about this night, ever. It’s going to be imprinted in her memory for the rest of her life, along with the sound of Angela moaning and how it feels to let two fingers slide back and forth over her swollen clitoris. Fareeha can feel the tension building in Angela’s body, like a cork in a champagne bottle that slowly but sure edging its way out of the bottleneck.

            Their orgasms aren’t simultaneous as Fareeha had imagined, but that doesn’t matter in the end. Angela arches back against Fareeha when she climaxes, hiding what would have been a loud, shuddering moan behind her tightly closed lips. Fareeha comes a little while later when Angela has shoved a thigh between Fareeha’s legs for her to rut up against. Fareeha orgasms with Angela’s mouth on hers, grunting and hissing as the climax ripples through her and smears against Angela’s thigh. After that, they just lie there for a good, long while without talking. Fareeha even manages to drift off a little bit before she wakes up to Angela masturbating next to her. Fareeha helps her with that, deeply hoping that maybe Angela will let her continue helping her with these things after they get up tomorrow.

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please remember to leave me a kudos and/or comment! It really keeps me motivated :thumpsupemoji:
> 
> Also, you can follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/drrtyrabbit) or [Tumblr](https://rabbitvswonderland.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
